


Fucking Romans

by tiger_in_the_flightdeck



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance, Spartacus: War of the Damned, The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5133125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_in_the_flightdeck/pseuds/tiger_in_the_flightdeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron doesn't trust the strange Roman and his little British slave. Nasir just wants to go back to bed. Marcus is the subbiest sub that ever subbed, and Esca has him wrapped around his little finger. </p><p>A fill for my Halloween Trick or Treat fest on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucking Romans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [christyimnotred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christyimnotred/gifts).



> Let's just pretend that the time lines of these two stories matches up.   
> Marcus and Esca never get named, but it's them. If the muse strikes me, I'll be expanding on this whole idea, which will have the 'what came before this' part.   
> Also, this is my first Spartacus fic!

“Look at them,”

Nasir didn’t bother to lift his eyes from sharpening his blade. “Mhmm,”

“They’re disgusting.”

“Terribly, yes.”

“Just look!”

Nasir clicked his tongue over his teeth and put the stone down to twist in his spot. He had to admit, it was unsettling.

Just outside the hastily put together lean-to, two men were tending each other’s injuries. The smaller of the two was bent over the large one’s knee to examine an old hurt. Nasir could see the purple and red scar, and touched his own over his ribs in sympathy.

The sympathy was troubling for him, because on the stranger’s wrist stood the unmistakable armilla that marked him not only as a Roman, but a soldier, while his companion had the clipped ear of slavery. But the doting and obvious love between them was plain to anyone. The Roman chattered in a language that sounded like he was speaking in reverse and occasionally choking on his own tongue. His slave replied in the same language, but softer and smoother. It was no Roman tongue and after watching them for a time Nasir realised that the Roman had learned his slave’s language.

“Why does he care for his wounds?” Agron paced about, twisting his fingers into the leather straps of his harness while prowling from one side of their lean-to to the other, stopping to glare out at the pair. “He could be free of him. Why does he lower himself to service him like that?”

Nasir tilted his head to the side, a small smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. The other rebels may call him Agron’s Boy, but the truth of it was that the warrior was charmingly innocent in some ways. While watching the two strangers, Nasir had noticed the way the Roman tipped his chin to his slave, speaking to him in polite tones and fussing over his minor injuries.

“I don’t believe that he is the one doing the servicing.” Nasir chuckled and grinned up at Agron.

It was late in the night when he was able to prove it. Agron shook him awake with a finger to his lips. “They’re sneaking away.” he whispered against his ear.

Together they crept from the camp, following the men through the trees at a safe distance. They seemed to disappear down into a hollow. When Nasir and Agron crested the rise to peer down into it, they recognised the widened portion of the stream they had camped near. Hushed voices came up from the hollow as the two men eased into the water together.

“See, they are going nowhere. Let’s take ourselves back to camp.” Nasir nudged at Agron with his hip. “I was enjoying my rest.”

Agron’s eyes seemed fixed on the pair, his face a confused blend of fury and curiosity. His hand worked on the pommel of his sword before he dropped it in shock.

Nasir turned to see what had surprised him so, and grinned when he saw the Roman sinking up to his shoulders in the water in front of his companion. No slave and master, they were simply two men reassuring themselves of their safety. He and his lover were no different after a battle, or even just a rigorous sparring session.

“They are going nowhere for a time. I am going to return.” Nasir inched back away from the edge of the hollow, waiting until he was out of sight before rising to his feet, knowing that Agron would follow on his heels. And their companions thought of him as the dog.

As they walked, Nasir saw Agron trying to subtly adjust himself.

Quirking up an eyebrow, Nasir looked down at the bulge pointedly.

“He reminds me of you.” Agron sulked and tugged at the rough cloth of his subligaculum to reposition himself.

“Me? Agron, he’s so pale he is almost blue. His hair looks like honey.” Nasir held up a lock of his night black hair.

“I didn’t mean in appearance.” he complained. “Must you always be so contrary?”

“You would worry if I stopped.” Nasir chuckled, his teeth bared in amusement. With a hand to his lover’s wrist, he turned him and walked him backwards until he struck a tree. “What reminded you of me in him?” He pressed the heel of his hand against Agron’s chest, sliding it down firmly as he went to cup that growing bulge.

Agron’s mouth fell slack as he looked down between them to Nasir’s hand. He tried to reply, but it came out as nothing more than a weak croak.

“That he had his Roman wound so tightly around his finger?” Nasir twirled his finger in echo of his words, lifting and dropping Agron’s balls.

A nod was all that Agron was able to muster in response. When Nasir plunged his hand inside his subligaculum, Agron finally found his voice. He groaned and tilted his head back to press against the trunk of the tree.

Rather than kneeling down, Nasir crouched, balanced on his toes to keep up off the damp forest floor. He used his hold on Agron’s cock to keep from tipping backwards.

“ _Ich bete dich an meine schöne liebling_ ,” he stammered out, his fingers sliding gently over the silken strands of Nasir hair. Shaking his head, Agron moved his hands to Nasir’s shoulders to stand upright again.

Nasir opened his mouth to ask what the problem was, but he was interrupted by a deep, searching kiss. He cupped Agron’s cheeks in his hands and rose up on his toes. The difference in their height was a benefit when they were laying in bed or when it was raining and he could tuck himself under Agron’s chin. But kissing was a balancing act. One made more difficult when they began to rub and grind their hips, their heated cocks sliding slick and hard together.

Hands tugged and pulled and stroked until they found a fast, hard rhythm together. Nasir lifted one foot to rest on the tree, letting Agron support his weight with his hands on his ass. Leaning back, using one of the straps on the harness as a rein, Nasir rolled his hips in ever quickening circles which worked them together from balls to crown.

Agron’s blunt nails bit into the muscles of Nasir’s ass, dimpling the firm flesh. The thrusts of his hips became stuttered and erratic, until he dragged his lips over the shell of his lover’s ear, whispering his name, harsh and desperate.

Neither could say who fell over the edge of completion first. That would be a competition for another night. They slowed their movements and gasped, their breath mingling together as they kissed and tasted.

Agron giggled, a warm, happy, infectious sound soon followed by Nasir. They pressed their foreheads together and used a few leaves from the tree to scrape up the mess they had made of each other.

A branch snapped not far from them, and Agron froze, grabbing for his sword. He made a clumsy image, his clothes at his ankles, skin still shining with sweat and come.

“A beautiful evening,” murmured a soft voice in a sweet accent from somewhere far to the west.

It was followed by a deeper one, with a flavour they both recognised as being from Hispania. “He’s right. And the water is lovely.”

Arm in arm, the two men strolled through the trees, keeping their eyes diplomatically above chest level. “If you would wish to cool off, I mean.” the Roman chuckled, his eyebrows bobbing up and down so quickly it could have been mistaken for a trick of the low light.

The wink that came from his companion was unmistakeable, though. As was the cheerful tune he whistled as they made their way back to camp.


End file.
